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I wish I was on yonder hill
'Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill
'Till every tear would turn a mill
Is go dté tú mo mhuirnín slán.
A melodious voice, soft and warm and tired at the same time. His mother's voice.
Steve had been bedridden for almost a week now, but the bout of sickness was coming to an end. This time.
Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin
Siúil go sochair agus siúil go ciúin
The Irish words wrapped around his heart, comforting. He had never been to Ireland, had only heard tales from his mom, but each time she sang in her native tongue, Steve was transported to the land of his ancestors, of fantasies … home away from home.
Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom
Is go dté tú mo mhuirnín slán
As his mother continued singing, she applied a wet cloth on his forehead. It felt good, a fresh touch against his slightly feverish body.
Steve turned his head towards his mother and smiled. Or at least, he tried. It was more probable that only one side of his mouth had come up a little bit.
"Rest, my love. I'm here", Sarah said before kissing the crown of his head.
And rest, Steve did. As his ancestors' tongue danced in his ears, his eyelids grew heavy and he fell asleep, dreaming of elves and green planes.
Today Steve's mother is no more, neither are all his friends from before the war, or the ones from the war. No one is left, except for Bucky.
Bucky, who suffered at the hands of the organisation he swore to erase from the Earth. Bucky, his kind hearted Bucky, who was turned into a ruthless killing machine. Who has suffered so much and is still paying for things he had no control over.
They are alone in the quinjet, Siberia behind them and the promise of the help from King T'Challa. They are alone in the quintet, going somewhere no one would find them, if only for a couple of days. They need to regroup, before they try to break Sam, Wanda, Clint and Scott out of the Raft.
They are alone in the quinjet… but not really. The pain and anguish that have characterised their lives for so long, the uncertainties for the future… they are here with them, weighing down the atmosphere.
Autopilot engaged, Steve and Bucky finally sat down on one of the benches. As the adrenaline of the fifth finally wore off, Bucky fell asleep with his head on Steve's lap.
Half an hour goes peacefully before the nightmares come. Now, Steve tries to soothe the man by running his fingers through the long brown hair that still has some blood in it.
When that doesn't work, Steve remembers his mom and starts to sing.
I wish I was on yonder hill
'Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill
'Till every tear would turn a mill
Is go dté tú mo mhuirnín slán.
Buckys stops shaking, but the frown hasn't disappeared. So Steve continues to sing, eyes on the wall.
Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin
Siúil go sochair agus siúil go ciúin
Steve feels a shift and lowers his gaze. His eyes are met by two blue-grey irises.
"Your ma used to sing this", Bucky says, his tone halfway between a question and affirmation.
"She did"
Bucky nods then closes his eyes.
"Rest, Buck. We're safe for now."
Steve resumes his singing and, slowly, Bucky's breathing slowly evens out.
Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom
Is go dté tú mo mhuirnín slán